The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-11-19

AAsS lAtS 1OunE S H W Atu hAAhLs
 Mir. de Santeze remained perfectly cool, as if nothing had happened; but few mornings after he was found in his dog kennel, hanging amidst his dogs.
 His son died in the same way at a hotel in Paris. While spending some time in that city ill 1S41 he became enamored of an opera singer. As the lady did not return his love, he hanged himself.
 He left behind him son twelve years old, and widow, my mothers sister. They came to live with us, at my fathers place at Bertillon. l was, at the time, seventeen years of age.
 You cannot imagine what a remark ably precocious child this little San teze was. It looked as ii all the ten- derness, all the enthusiasm of the whole race had fallen to thls one, the last of the name. He always seemed to be in a dream. and, for hours, he would walk all alone in tho long avenue of elm trees whic. leads from the chateau to the woods. From my window, l would notice the senti- mental lad, stepping gravely along, his hands behind his back, his eyes cast down, now and then stopping to look up as if he saw and understood, and felt things that were beyond his years.
 Often, after dinner, on moonlight nights, he would say to me: "Come, cousin, let us go out to muse" And then we would start out together through the park. He would stop abruptly in front of the glades where tloated that white vapor, that light wadding with which the moon pads the opening between the trees: then he would say to me, as he pressed my hand: "See that, see. But you do not understand me know you don't. if you did, you would be happy. One must love to understand" l would laugh and kiss the child that was so much attached to me.
 Often, also, after dinner, he would sit on my mothers knees. "Now, aunty," would he say, "tell us some love stories" And mother, for fun, would relate to him all the legends of his family, all the passionate adven- lures of his torefathers, and of these there were not few-thousands and thousands of them were spoken of, true as well as false. It was the rep utation of these men that destroyed them. Their minds would get worked up, and then they gloried in keeping up the family fame.
 The little fellow would become ani- mated over these tender or terrible narratives, and at times, he would clap his hands as he would repeat over and over: "I too, l know how to love, and better than any of them"
 And then he began courting me in timid and tender manner that made every body laugh, so odd did it seem. Every morning l received a bunch of flowers that he had gathered for me, and every night, before going up to his room, he would kiss my hand and murmur: II love you!"
 l was wrong, very wrong, and I stil! weep over my folly. All my life l have done penance on account of it, and have remained an old maid, or rather I have lived as a widowed be- trothed, his widow. l would amuse myself with his childish affection: I encouraged him; was coquettish and bewitching, just as I might have been with a man. made the child dote upon me. It was fun for me and an amusing pastime for his mother and for mine! He was twelve years old Just think, who would ever have inn agined that this atoms love was seri- ous. l would kiss him whenever he asked me to; would even write him tender notes which our mothers would read, and he would answer me with letters full of passion, which l still preserve. Believing himselfa man he supposed that our=Rexe was kept se- cret. We had all lost sight of the fact that he was de Santezel
 Things went on in this way for year or so. One evening, in the park, he fell at my feet, and kissing the hem ofmy dress, he cried out passionately: the death! If you ever deceive me, you understand what am saying, if ever you forsake me for another, l shall do as did my father" And he added in deep voice that sent chill through me: You know what he did"
 Then, as 1 stood motionless, dumb founded, he rose and standing on tip toe so as to reach my ear, he whis- pered my name, "Genevievew in SO sweet, so pretty, so tender tone that I could not help trembling all over.
 I stammered: "Let us return home." He said nothing more, bu. followed me in silence; just as we were about to ascend the front-door steps, however, he stopped me, and said: "Remember, that If you for